


Make the Rain Come

by snarky_saxophonist



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Doesn't get close to it but the intent is there, M/M, Not by a Cub, happy ending I promise, nonconsensual drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13789941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarky_saxophonist/pseuds/snarky_saxophonist
Summary: A post-win celebration out at a bar goes very much awry.





	Make the Rain Come

**Author's Note:**

> So this is darker than what I usually write and I'm probably going to have to write a bunch of happy, sappy stuff to make up for it, but this idea got stuck in my brain and wouldn't go away, so here it is.
> 
> This fic contains potentially triggering events, so please please mind the tags. See the end notes for more detailed warnings.
> 
> If you are or know personally one of the people tagged in this, please click the back button now.

“Kris, can you just leave me alone for one night at a bar?” Anthony asks his boyfriend as they follow the rest of the team into the bar. “I’d like just one night where I can actually drink and have fun instead of babysitting you ‘cause you don’t drink.”

Kris just looks at him for a long moment, hurt in his bright eyes. “Okay,” he says finally, turning to head off in another direction with Kyle Hendricks, who presumably also won’t be drinking since he’s starting tomorrow. Anthony feels a brief twinge of guilt in his chest, but studiously ignores it. After the fight they’d had earlier, he’s completely justified in not wanting to be with Kris. Even if the fight was equally his fault. Whatever. He needs a drink.

Anthony trails after Lester and several of the other guys, ending up in a booth with them and a tray of shots. He’s still in a foul mood, so he downs two of them before most of the other guys have even touched their first.

“Damn Rizz, you know we won tonight, right?” La Stella teases him, flagging a waitress down and ordering a round of beers for the tables.

“That’s why I only had two so far,” Anthony replies mulishly, eying the tray and considering having another shot to deal with his teammates’ chirping. 

“Of course he knows Tommy, he pretty much won it for me,” Chatwood puts in, grinning at Anthony and downing his own shot. “I didn’t see much run support coming from the rest of you.”

“Ah yes, my deepest apologies, I’ll be sure to hit better the next time you’re pitching,” Lester says dryly.

“Hey, you’ve hit a homer, old man. You could totally come in and pinch hit,” Chatwood says. 

Lester rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that would work out super well for all of us. I would definitely not strike out nearly every time, and having more plate appearances would in no way affect my routine and the rest of my playing.”

“Obviously,” Strop says. “I mean, what other possibilities are there?”

“Clearly none,” Chatwood shrugs. “You’re the two way player the fans have been clamoring for.”

Anthony grins, jumping on the wagon to make fun of Lester for that as he finally lets himself start to relax. They won, he’s out with his teammates having fun, and he can work things out with Kris tomorrow. He barely even remembers what they were fighting about now, so as long as he bucks up and apologizes, he’s sure they’ll be fine.

 

An hour later, Anthony’s nursing his second beer and making fun of CJ for the scraggly beard he’s sporting along with the rest of the guys in their booth. They’ve started to trickle out for the night, so it’s just CJ, Lester, Rizzo, and Duensing left in their group. Anthony hasn’t seen Kris since they got to the bar, but he’s presumably still with Kyle, Willson, and Javy, since he assumes Kris will at least text if he’s heading back to his apartment.

“I mean, superstitions aside, it just looks like there’s a very small, very dead animal on your face,” Duensing is saying when they’re all distracted by a familiar voice yelling in rapid-fire Spanish from across the bar. 

“C’mon,” Lester says, but they’re already on their feet and heading for whatever trouble Willson has gotten himself into. They arrive in time to see Javy pulling Willson away from a guy clutching at his nose, but instead of letting him go, Javy leans forward, pressing his arm to the other guy’s throat and leaning in to growl something at him.

“-fucking touch him,” is all Anthony catches of what he says, but he’s preoccupied by the rage written across Willson’s features as Jon puts a hand on his chest to keep him back. Anthony glances around, searching for Kris and Kyle, who should’ve been able to keep whatever this is from turning into a mess, and he thinks he spots them nearly at the side door, Kyle ushering Kris outside.

“What the fuck happened here?” Jon demands, grabbing Javy’s arm to get him to leave the guy he’s threatening alone, still keeping his hand on Willson’s chest. The bartender appears next to them a moment later, phone in hand.

“Your friend alright?” He asks Willson, who nods tersely. “That creep do anything? I can call the cops if you want.”

“No cops now,” Javy says, sending a dark glare in the direction of the man cowering against the bar. “But if you would get his information for us so we could later, that would be nice. We want to check on our friend, and it should be his decision anyways.”

“Done,” the bartender says, grabbing the unknown guy by his collar and hauling him off towards a back room. Willson starts to head for the side door, Javy following, but Lester stops them.

“What the fuck happened?” He demands again, blocking their path. Anthony watches the confrontation, a sick feeling growing in his stomach as a possible scenario takes root in his imagination.

“That fucking-“ Willson breaks off into a stream of angry Spanish. The few words that Anthony can make out are all curses.

“He wouldn’t leave Kris alone,” Javy supplies. “Things got ugly.”

Lester starts to say something else, but Anthony has already pushed past him in his haste to get to the door. He feels worse at having at least part of his suspicions confirmed, and he thinks he might puke if he doesn’t see Kris immediately.

 

“-get Rizzo?” Kyle is asking when Anthony shoves the door open and stalks outside. The pair is a little ways down the street, Kris hunched over on the ground, Kyle crouching next to him with an arm around his shoulders.

“No, he prob’ly wouldn’ wan’ to,” Kris slurs, leaning into Kyle’s arm. The sound of Kris slurring his words is so unfamiliar that it sends alarm bells through Anthony’s mind. There’s no way Kris has decided to start drinking for the first time tonight and got this drunk.

The door slamming shut behind him gets Kyle’s attention, but Kris doesn’t move. Kyle doesn’t say anything, just beckons him over, keeping his other arm around Kris. As he gets closer, Anthony realizes that Kris is shaking, tremors wracking his body.

“Hey,” Anthony says quietly, coming to a stop in front of Kris and crouching down to be on his level. “What’s going on? You sick?”

Kris shakes his head, face pale and still trembling. He keeps his gaze fixed on the ground, not meeting Anthony’s eyes, but something tells Anthony not to push it right now. Instead, he looks up at Kyle and mouths the word Drunk? even though he knows that can’t be the explanation.

Drugged, Kyle mouths back. His features are settled into tight lines, the most upset Anthony’s ever seen him look. Kyle turns his attention back to Kris, using his free hand to card his fingers through Kris’s hair comfortingly. “We need to get you to a hospital so you can get checked out, Kris.”

“I jus’ wanna go home,” Kris mumbles. 

“After that you can, but right now that’s what we need to do, okay?” Kyle says, adjusting his grip on Kris to help pull him upright. “I’ve got you, come on.”

Anthony stands as well, offering Kris an arm to use for further support. Kris takes it, fingers wrapping around his forearm and gripping so hard Anthony knows he’ll have bruises come tomorrow.

The side door opens just as they pass it on their way to Kyle’s car, spilling out the rest of their teammates. Kris flinches back at the sudden movement in front of them, but stays quiet, normally bright eyes glazed. 

“Kris, are you alright?” Jon asks, moving forward as if to put a reassuring hand on Kris’s arm. He stops quickly at Kyle’s warning look, just standing in front of them. When it becomes apparent that Kris isn’t going to manage an answer, Kyle does.

“Pretty sure he got slipped something, so we’re going to the hospital to get him checked out,” he explains. His voice is even, but Anthony can read a slight undercurrent of tension. Anthony still doesn’t know exactly what happened, but it’s evidently more than enough to have the untouchable Kyle Hendricks almost visibly upset. 

“Can we do anything?” Willson asks, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He’s careful to keep his distance from Kris, though, despite his anger. It’s a sobering reminder of his familiarity with being around violence and of the fact that Kris is very much not okay right now. Willson, like Anthony, isn’t used to standing around unable to help. He very clearly wants to do something, but he’s deferring to Kris and Kyle despite how it’s costing him.

“No, just go home,” Kyle says. “Be ready for tomorrow, all of you. I’ll keep you updated.”

Willson nods once, jerkily, tension bleeding off him in waves. He steps out of the way to let them pass, and the others follow his lead, although none of them look happy about it. Behind them, Anthony hears Javy mutter something in Spanish, something that sounds almost like a plea. Willson’s response is short and terse, and neither of them say anything further.

By the time they reach Kyle’s car, Kris is half asleep, his own stumbling steps barely keeping him moving forwards. Kyle and Anthony manage to get him folded into the backseat, a task made significantly harder by Kris’s annoyingly long legs.

“Keep him awake,” Kyle orders Anthony as he makes his way around to the driver’s seat. Anthony nods, even though Kyle can’t see him, and slides into the backseat next to Kris. 

Jerking upright when Anthony brushes against him, Kris’s gaze clears for long enough to give Anthony a panic-filled look. It lasts only a heartbeat before Kris recognizes him and gives in to the exhaustion weighing him down again, but Kris’s naked fear at his touch stays, a knot in Anthony’s stomach that threatens to make him sick.

“You can lean against me if it’d be more comfortable, but we need you to stay awake until we get you to a doctor, okay?” Anthony says instead, pushing aside his nausea and focusing on the situation at hand. 

“Okay,” Kris mumbles miserably, sagging against Anthony in a puddle of exhausted misery. Anthony hesitates, but lightly puts his arm across Kris’s shoulders, waiting to see if Kris will tense at the touch. Instead, Kris reaches up to tangle their fingers together, and some of the fear clogging Anthony’s throat dissipates. Kyle says nothing as he starts the car, but Anthony catches his gaze when he glances backwards. His features reveal nothing, but Anthony is pretty sure there’s relief in his dark eyes. 

Kris seems ready to fall asleep right here despite how cramped it is in the back, and Anthony has no idea how to effectively keep him awake when Kris obviously isn’t up for a conversation. Anthony doesn’t particularly feel like talking either.

He opens his mouth to say something, but what comes out is an old Italian phrase, something his mother used to say every time the world was being cruel to one of her sons. He hasn’t heard her say it since his cancer diagnosis, wouldn’t have consciously remembered it if he was trying, but the strange syllables attract Kris’s attention. He rolls his head slowly to look up at Anthony, a question written in his barely-there gaze.

“Don’t worry about it,” Anthony says. “You’ll be alright.”

“’M jus’ tired,” Kris says, either too out of it to really process how fucked up he is right now or just ignoring it for the time being. Anthony huffs out something between a laugh and a sob, squeezing Kris’s fingers gently.

“You can sleep soon enough,” he promises. Kris nods against his chest at that, and a little more of the tightness leaves Anthony’s body. 

“You still mad?” Kris mumbles a few minutes later, and Anthony feels his earlier guilt return tenfold.

“No, Kris, no,” he manages. “I’m not mad at all, it was a dumb argument, I’m sorry. I could never stay mad at you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizin’ so much,” Kris says. “’S okay. I yelled too, ‘n’ I’m sorry too.”

“Don’t even worry about it, okay? You’re fine,” Anthony assures him, squeezing their joined fingers. Kris nods eventually, apparently satisfied.

Anthony spends the rest of the ride rambling about whatever crosses his mind, from movies to football to how some of the college teams look this season. Kris doesn’t seem to be following the thread of the conversation much, but he occasionally makes the appropriate noises wen Anthony pauses for breath, which is enough for Anthony at the moment.

“Anthony, go in with him, I’ll park,” Kyle tells him when they finally pull up at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. “I’m going to call Dr. Adams because the team medical staff needs to know and he’ll probably want to be here tonight.”

“Okay,” Anthony agrees, helping Kris out of the car. Kris staggers once he gets his legs under him, leaning heavily on Anthony as he steers the both of them towards the doors.

The bright lights are a shock to Anthony’s system after the dark bar and Kyle’s car, and he still feels a little disoriented once Kris has been taken back by a nurse and Anthony left to wait for him. The receptionist gives him a pitying smile when he all but collapses into one of the chairs, but Anthony barely notices.

He still doesn’t know exactly what happened on the other side of the bar tonight, but there are enough pieces for his mind to fill in an unpleasant picture. He hadn’t been there with Kris, and some guy had been harassing him, has even managed to drug Kris’s drink, and Anthony hadn’t been there to stop it. The logical part of his brain knows that Kris is here and in good hands, that Kyle and Willson and Javy had kept things from going too far downhill, but the rest of him can’t let go of the fact that he wasn’t with Kris.

“So,” Kyle’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts as the pitcher settles into the chair next to him. “Do you know enough, or do you need the whole story?”

“Tell me,” Anthony says numbly. There’s nobody else in the waiting room at this hour if he ends up puking at what Kyle tells him, and his mind is coming up with increasingly worse scenarios since he only knows a few plot points of the evening.

“The four of us weren’t planning on drinking tonight, so we just took up a spot at the bar to hang out. The guy next to Kris was chatting at him a lot. I just figured he was a fan and switched places with Kris so he wouldn’t be on the end, and thought that would be the end of it,” Kyle says, gaze steadily fixed on Anthony. “Later on, though, we moved down the bar because a group came up next to us and needed a few more seats. I ended up all the way down from Kris, with Javy next to me and Willy next to Kris. A little while later, I noticed that same guy was next to Kris again. I didn’t see him slip anything into Kris’s drink, but Kris was acting like he was drunk when all he’d had was ginger ale. Willy asked him if he was alright, and Kris said he was fine and just needed to hit the head. The guy went after him, and got as far as putting his hand on Kris’s ass and starting to steer him towards the door before Willson threw him off Kris and started screaming at him. I got Kris out of there when Willy started throwing punches.”

Anthony doesn’t say anything, silently processing Kyle’s story. It’s a lot to take in, even when he knows that that fucker didn’t do what he’d evidently wanted to. Knowing that he touched Kris, put drugs in his drink, is enough to have rage and nausea boiling through him in equal measure.

“Hey,” Kyle says quietly, and Anthony realizes belatedly that his silence has stretched on probably longer than is acceptable. “He got Kris maybe ten steps away from us. We weren’t going to let him get Kris alone.”

“You didn’t stop him from drugging Kris,” Anthony says. The accusation slides off his tongue before he can stop it, as bitter and sharp as the shots he’d downed earlier.

Kyle takes the harsh words in stride, looking as unperturbed as always. He could’ve just as easily been sitting and watching golf as sitting in a hospital waiting room getting unfair accusations hurled at him by his teammate. “That’s not why you’re upset. You’re upset because you didn’t.”

“I-“ Anthony starts, furious, but he stops himself before he can say another word, biting down hard on his tongue. Kyle’s as good at throwing strikes with his words as he is with his changeup, even if he doesn’t use the former against people often. Anthony’s not used to being on the other side of Kyle’s unerring precision. “I should’ve been there,” he says instead, dragging his gaze away from Kyle’s so he doesn’t have to see the judgment in Kyle’s eyes.

Kyle doesn’t let him hide, however. “Look at me,” he says, voice quiet but with a note that forces Anthony to comply. “You could not have done anything,” he tells him, stopping Anthony from arguing with a slight lift of his chin. “You could not have done anything. Willy and Javy and I were sitting right there with him, and we couldn’t stop it. Your presence would have changed nothing. Kris will need you to help him deal with this, but you will only make things worse if you’re too caught up in your own misplaced guilt. Deal with it now, then let it go. It was not your fault, and you could not have stopped it. The rest of us kept anything worse from happening, and now we need to help Kris heal and move on.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a pitcher, not a therapist,” Anthony says instead of actually replying to anything Kyle said. 

“The two aren’t all that unrelated,” Kyle shrugs. “I have to be able to read the guy I’m facing off against, whether it’s a batter or I’m off the field.”

Anthony almost expects Kyle to ask if he listened to a single point of his speech, but he settles back in his chair silently, seemingly content. Anthony mulls over his words while they wait. His anger has faded, replaced by a desire to see Kris and be able to know for sure that he’s safe and mostly alright.

“Are you two here for Kris Bryant?” An exhausted looking nurse asks, sticking his head into the waiting room. They both nod, and he beckons them to follow him. “Come on back, he’s being released shortly.”

“That seems awfully fast,” Kyle comments.

“Yeah, you guys came in at a quiet time and Rohypnol is one of the first things we test for in cases like this,” the nurse says. “And not having to do a rape kit helps speed things up.”

Anthony freezes in place, the ugly word hitting him like a fastball to the chest. God, if Kyle and Willson hadn’t been right there, if they hadn’t noticed Kris acting weird and had let him go off alone, or if-

Kyle puts a hand on Anthony’s chest, not hard enough to push him but enough of a distraction to snap Anthony out of his thoughts. 

“It didn’t happen,” he says quietly. “You know better than to dwell on what-ifs. Don’t ignore what you’ve spent your career learning to do.”

Throat still tight, Anthony can’t bring himself to say anything, but he manages a nod. That seems to be good enough for Kyle, who removes his hand and gestures for Anthony to precede him down the hall. Anthony lets out a sharp breath, reminding himself that he’s here for Kris and that he needs to get himself together. He can no more change what happened tonight than he can change his fourth inning strikeout, but he can deal with both and move past them.

The nurse, quieted by Anthony’s reaction to his words earlier, leads them silently the rest of the way down the hall. He knocks on a doorframe, pokes his head in, then motions for Anthony and Kyle to go in. Anthony hesitates briefly before heading in, well aware of how hospital beds make everything seem worse, but Kris actually looks relatively okay. He still looks as exhausted as if he’d played a twenty-inning game as the second part of a doubleheader, but he’s sitting up and is nodding in response to whatever Dr. Adams had said.

Kris jumps a little when he notices Anthony and Kyle in the room, but he reaches out with the arm untethered by an IV towards Anthony. Anthony doesn’t wait to be summoned twice, crossing the room as quickly as possible to grab Kris’s hand, squeezing it hard as a reminder that they’re both there and in one piece. 

“Kris, do you mind if they’re in here while I finish up?” Dr. Adams asks, nodding in greeting to the two newcomers.

“It’s fine,” Kris says quietly, not looking at Anthony or Kyle.

“Alright. As soon as that bag’s done, you’re free to go, and I’m assuming these guys are your ride,” Dr. Adams says. “You’re going to feel like you have a wicked hangover tomorrow, and you’re taking tomorrow off. No working out or taking BP, and you’re certainly not entering the game in any capacity. I would advice you to spend most of the day sleeping and drinking lots of water, and you should be good to go for the next day’s game. If I see you so much as look too hard at your bat tomorrow, I’ll bench you for the next game, too.”

“Okay,” Kris’s agreement is like a slap to the face. Kris hates nothing more than being benched when he feels he can play, would normally argue until he’s blue in the face even if there’s no chance of the medical staff changing their minds. That he’s agreed so easily tells Anthony more about where his head’s at than an hours-long conversation could.

“One more thing,” Dr. Adams hesitates slightly, glancing down at his clipboard. Whatever he’s going to say, he doesn’t look happy about it. “Since there is an illegal drug in your system, I have to report it to MLB, and they’ll have to investigate. It should be fairly open and shut, it’s pretty clear that you didn’t willingly ingest the drugs, but there’s no way to avoid the investigation. You and your teammates who were at the bar will have to speak to the investigating committee, and I’m hoping that there were security cameras at the bar that will make it clear beyond any doubt that you didn’t intentionally take drugs.”

Kris has gone white as a sheet, and Anthony can read Kyle’s anger even though he’s barely shifted at all. Anthony fights back his own rush of fury and squeezes Kris’s hand, giving him the most reassuring smile he can manage when Kris glances up at him.

“What- what if-“ His voice shakes, and Anthony’s heart clenches as he watches Kris visibly struggle to keep himself together. He finally shakes his head miserably, eyes flickering around the three of them like someone will have an easy answer for him. “I can’t- I didn’t want-“

“We know, Kris, and whoever investigates almost certainly will, too,” Dr. Adams says reassuringly. “Try to put it out of your mind for the time being; there’s nothing you can do about it other than tell the truth when they ask you what happened. You could file a police report against the man who did this, which would probably help tip the investigation further in your favor.”

“I want to do that anyways,” Kris’s voice is barely louder than a whisper now, but he sounds certain. “I don’t want him having the opportunity to do this to anybody else.”

“Okay, I’ll get the paperwork from the hospital with the results of the drug test to give to the police, and I can go with you to the station tomorrow to get things started,” Dr. Adams says. He nods slightly at the table next to Kris’s bed. “Your discharge papers are right there for when you’re ready to go. A nurse will come and disconnect the IV, and then you’re good to go. Do you have any other questions?”

Kris shakes his head, too tired to say anything else as Anthony thanks the doctor. He leans his head against Anthony’s shoulder, half asleep already, and Anthony cards his fingers gently through Kris’s hair, trying to give Kris what little comfort he can offer.

 

They’re out of the hospital and back at Kris’s apartment less than an hour later, Kyle dropping them off with a promise to update the rest of the teammates who had been with them tonight. Anthony has to half-carry Kris upstairs and to bed, as Kris is more than dead on his feet by this point. He manages to get Kris to brush his teeth and drink a glass of water before Kris is totally done for the night, then chugs a few glasses of water himself to fend off a potential hangover tomorrow, passing out with both arms wrapped around Kris.

 

Anthony wakes up to a harsh shove that almost sends him to the floor, but he manages to catch himself just before falling out of bed. Pushing himself into a seated position, his eyes immediately seek out Kris, who is curled up against the headboard, eyes bright with fear.

“Hey, hey, Kris, you’re okay,” Anthony says, voice quiet and soothing. “It’s just me, you’re okay.”

“I-I- fuck,” Kris grits out, wrapping his arms around his knees and starting to rock back and forth in time with his harsh, uneven breaths.

“Kris-“ Anthony reaches out towards him, then catches himself and stops. “Can I hold you? Please?”

Kris nods brokenly, and Anthony wastes no time in wrapping his arms around Kris, holding his trembling boyfriend tightly until Kris’s breathing evens out again.

“I’m sorry,” Kris whispers eventually, after such a long silence that Anthony had almost thought he’d fallen asleep again.

“None of this was your fault,” Anthony replies softly, not loosening his hold on Kris.

“I shouldn’t-“ Kris shakes his head. “Nothing happened, I shouldn’t be reacting like this.”

“The worst didn’t happen, but you were still drugged against your will,” Anthony points out as gently as he can. “Your reaction seems perfectly normal for that, but you’re gonna be okay.”

It’s an agonizingly long moment before Kris sighs and mumbles a somewhat convincing “Yeah.” It’s not enough, and it’s not where he wants Kris to be, but it’s a start, and that’s enough for now.

 

Kris sits out their game that day as promised, and the Cubs make it easy for him, winning 8-1. He plays the next day, goes 1-for-3 with a walk in another win, and the team goes out to a diner instead of a bar, loading up on breakfast food and ice cream even though it’s after 11.

MLB, unsurprisingly, doesn’t suspend Kris for the drugs found in his system, and Anthony even manages to keep from strangling the man asking him about what he’d seen that night. Connor Spencers is arrested for possession of an illegal drug, assault, and forcibly drugging an unwilling party. He attempts to file charges against Willson for assault, but his lawyer shoots that down immediately. Spencers gets time in jail, though not nearly enough for Anthony’s liking, and they never hear from or of him again.

In time, Kris is alright again. He goes out to bars with the team again after awhile, and although he prefers to hang out in a booth instead of at the bar, nobody says anything about it. The Cubs win a lot of games, and lose some, and the world goes on as normal.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> -A character (OMC, not a Cub) slips drugs into another character's drink without their consent and attempts to get them alone  
> -A character punches the OMC  
> -There are non-explicit thoughts of what could have happened had the OMC gotten the character away
> 
> So...yeah. Not sure I'm entirely happy with this, but drop a comment or kudos and let me know what you thought


End file.
